Markus Axeman, Native son of Skyrim
by Smokeythebear
Summary: Background story to one of my favorite characters I've created in Skyrim and how he came to be the man he is.


Markus Axeman, Native son of Skyrim. Born in Markarth to Jorin and Lena Axeman. Jorin was a miner who worked his fingers to bone every day mining ore to support his family. He not only worked the mines in markarth but took occasional jobs at the surrouding mines in the reach. He was a well liked individual who was on good terms with all the townsfolk. Lena stayed home to tend their living space and the children, Markus and his older sister Jellia. The family was not particularly wealthy and was living in a small house on the outskirts of town with not much to show for themselves. Thier life however was simple and well enough. Then it happend. "The Uprising." Markus was about 8 years old at the time and very confused as to the changing climate of his homeland. All of a suddent he found himself staying indoors more, unable to go outside to play with his friends. His parents would stay up late at night talking about the "danger of the Reachmen" and "how it was unsafe to continue living here." A few days later Jorin and Lena gathered the kids and explained to them what was going on. Markus could sense distress in his parents and sister but was unaffected by it. All the time his father was explaining about the situation all Markus could focus on was his hatred towards these Reachmen and their dispicable actions. The murder, the looting, the revolution. Why couldn't everyone just live in peace together...? At the end of the discussion Jorin decided it was time for the family to leave the Reach. It had become too dangerous to stay, even in such close proximity to the city under the watchful eye of the city guards. The Reachmen were getting bolder and fierecer and it was only a matter of time before they would invade the city. The stories of rape, pillage and murder were too ghastly for Jorin to imagine happening to his family. The following day the family were packing their belongings ready to head East towards Whiterun. Lena was from Whiterun and had good connections there so it would be easy enough for Jorin to find work and the family to find a house. Jorin left early in the morning to run a few errands in the city and tie up some loose ends before the departure. Lena and the kids were packing up their wagon shortly after a hurried breakfast. Then it happend without warning. *BOOM* a large smoking crater had appeared in the ground not meters from where the family was. A fireball from a crazed Reach Shawmen far in the distance. He was wildly dancing and pointing his staff. From behind him came into view a few dozen Reachmen, armed to the teeth. Even from a few hundred meters out it was easy to see the madness and rage in their eyes. Lena was scared, still shaken from the explosion. She quickly looked around and saw the kids huddled together underneath the cart. She hurriedly screamed for them to follow here. She turned and ran back towards the city, leaving their possessions behind. As Lena and her kids frantically ran towards the city she suddenly felt the ground leave her feet. She was flying through the air before she realized what had happend. Another fireball from the Shawman had landed right under her. As tears filled her eyes, her last thoughts were of her sweet children as she plummeted towards the ground. Markus and Jellia who were sent flying backwards from the blast got up and dusted themselves off, only a few minor scrapes on them. When they started forward they saw it...their mother lying on the ground, not moving, silence in her eyes, dress badly burned and torn. Markus and Jellia stood in shock for what seemed like an eternity before Jellia snapped them out of it. Fighting back tears she grabbed Markus' hand and led him towards the city. They had to reach their father. Jorin was at the market when he heard the tremendous commotion outside the gates of the city. He noticed many guards were running towards the gate. He had feared the worst, and sure enough his suspicions were confirmed when he ran outside the city. In the distance he saw the oncoming horde of Reachmen, as well as the city guards going out to meet them. In the midsts of it all he noticed many citizens running back towards the city, among them he distinctly picked out his children. But where was their mother...He had once again feared the worst. He quickly ran into the oncoming fray to meet his children, and when he got to them he could see in their eyes that his fear was confirmed. Without hesitation he grabbed up Markus and took Jellia by the hand and led them into the city. He figured the city walls would buy them time to find another exit strategy, but it was at that moment when his whole world fell apart. "The city belongs to the Reachmen!" Jorin turned around to see a few dozen reachmen inside the city unsheating their weapons. It was a two pronged attack! The Reachmen must have sent agents into the city to attack from the inside, and the soldiers outside were a distraction to lure out the already dwindling city guards. Chaos ensued in the marketplace as multidues of citizens were running franticly trying to avoid capture, death or worse. All around bodies were falling and blood was being splattered as the Reachmen tore through the city. Jorin grabbed his kids and started bolting frantically through the city towards the Understone Keep. As he was winding down the stone pathways he all of a sudden lost his feet. A Reachman surprised him from the side with a staggering blow from a club. The wind knocked out of him he stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his balance. Years of working the mines had hardend Jorin to be a force not easily reconed with. Pulling his pickaxe from his side as the Reachman lunged again, Jorin struck him down with a fell swoop. His years of service in the Legion as a younger man had taught him the basics of combat and honed his skills. He eventually became aa decorated officer in the Legion, but quit shortly before he could be dispatched to the front lines of the Great War. He had found Lena, and decided the only war he wanted to fight was for her heart. The kids, too numbed by everythig they had seen thus far did not even blink twice at the grisly sceene of their father standing over a mangled corpse holding a blood soaked pickaxe. Together they kept moving. The Understone Keep was in sight, only a hundred meters ahead. Suddenly 3 Reachmen jumped out in front of them. Jorin, his pickaxe still in hand swung wildly at one, catching him in the gut and sending him to oblivion. The second and third immediatly lunged towards him weapons drawn. Jorin made quick work of them as well, but not before one of them had cut him in the stomach. It was a scratch, but blood was visably dripping from his sides. He did not seem badly injured and despite his childrens fears he pressed them on. Before they could take any more steps though they noticed their father had stopped. Jorin was standing in front of them, not moving. Then without warning *Umpfh*. He fell backwards, the kids gasped in horror at the 2 arrows protruding from his chest. Markus quickly glanced upwards to see a Reachman archer standing on the stone pathway above them. Jellia had finally succumbed to the fear. She fell down at her fathers side, lied on his chest and began to cry. Markus was about to reach for her hand when he felt a sharp pain to his stomach. A Reachman had kicked him in the gut, doubling him over on the ground. He looked up in time to see the soldier ready himself for round two, and then nothing...darkness...death...? Markus awoke on the same pathway much later. It was already dark outside, but he could still see plenty of commotion in the city. He laid on the ground not daring to move in case a solder was nearby eager to finish the job. He assumed that because he was so young the Reachmen did not bother with him, but he did not want to tempt his fate twice. He laid there for a few hours more until he heard the commotion die down. He silently got up and covered by the darkness crept through the city. He was small enough and it was dark enough that in all the commotion he would not be detected. He was able to sneak out of the city and into the fields. He was unsure what to do next, but he knew that their plan was to head to Whiterun to start anew with the help of his mothers family. His mother...father...SISTER,,,,!? What happend to her? He knew the fate of his parents, but the thought of what happend to his sister? Was she killed? Captured? or worse? He shuddered to fathom the dark terrible acts that these monsters would commit to his sister. He had to do something! But what could he do? He was a whelp. Too young and weak, too tired and emotionally drained, too frustrated and beset with anger and sadness to think. All he could do was bite his lip and run. Run. RUN. Fueled by pure adrenaline and other feelings he did not know existed, he ran. He ran for days along the road to Whiterun, ducking in cover when he saw people, foraging off scraps other animals left behind. He had to make it to Whiterun, and he did not know who he could trust. After days of travel he came upon the great city at last. He ran to his grandmothers farm outside the town only to find it abandoned and closed. It seemed that Lena's parents had fallen on hard times and could not afford to keep their land. They were evicted by the Jarl's orders. Defeated and utterly exhausted he slumped down by the front door to the house and wept. He wept for what seemed like an eternity, until it was interrupted by approaching men. Three of them, dressed in ragged gear carrying rusty weapons. "This lil whelp should fetch a nice sum" one of them said. Bandits...He had heard stories of bandits taking little orphans and selling them as field hands to wealthy familys across the continent. He figured they were just tales to scare him into coming home before nightfall, but he had just learned firsthand that they were indeed real. He tried to run, but was too weak, and immiedatly fell to the ground as soon as he stood up. The bandits were upon him and one of them quickly gagged and bound him. The other one knocked him on the head sending him into unconciousness. Markus awoke many hours later, blindfolded and bound. He was laying on the floor of a wagon, travelling somewhere. Unable to move, too weak and distraught to think clearly, and still overcome with the crippling sadness of the loss of his family, he could do nothing but wait...where would he end up...what would be his next move...what happend to his sister, would he ever see his family again...The wagon would occasionally stop and more children would be tossed inside, each in the same predicament as him. He travled for what seemed like, days, weeks, months. He was unsure. While many of the other children wrestled trying to break their bonds and screamed muffled screams, Markus just lied there. Thinking. His resolve became clear and his focus narrowed. He would exact revenge for what was done to his family. He would escape his fate as slave. He would grow, become stronger, learn to fight, become a great and mighty warrior. And then, when the time was right, he would return to Skyrim and exact his revenge on those who deserved it. The Reachmen, who destroyed his home and his family would be first to feel his wrath. He would do this all the while attempting to learn the fate of his sister. He would slaughter them all if needed. Whatever it would take to find her... 


End file.
